A man once married two wives and, to keep peace, drew up a roster: each wife got a week in his bed. Everyone seemed satisfied until one day the senior wife decided to change the rules.
“You cannot sleep with me, and you cannot sleep with my junior wife,” she decreed.
The husband was stunned. Even the second wife blinked in disbelief. Since when did one wife control not only her own bedroom but her co-wife’s as well? The man snapped: “You can lock your doors if you wish, but you cannot seal off another woman’s chamber. I paid both bride prices in full.”
That, in a nutshell, is the current drama around the Dangote Refinery.
Like a polygamous husband, Dangote must manage multiple “wives”: government regulators, oil unions, fuel marketers, and the Nigerian people. One “senior wife” — the unions — now wants to decide not only what Dangote can do with them, but also what he can do with others.
But Dangote, being Nigerian, saw this coming. He knew no one has a monopoly on mischief. Anticipating obstruction, he quietly invested over ₦720 billion in 4,000 Compressed Natural Gas (CNG)-powered trucks to deliver fuel directly to filling stations. That move could save Nigerians an estimated ₦1.7 trillion annually in distribution costs.
Instead of welcoming innovation, some union leaders cried foul: “You won’t do us, and you won’t do the new wife either.” They called strikes, threatened shutdowns, and accused Dangote of anti-union practices, low wages, and monopolistic ambitions.
But here’s the reality: who else in Nigeria is recruiting 4,000 drivers in one swoop? Who else has risked billions of dollars to build a refinery when others hid their wealth in tax havens? And should a man who fasted, prayed, and thanked God for a Dangote job suddenly care more about union politics than putting food on his family’s table?
Yes, unions have a role. Yes, workers deserve fair wages. But weaponizing strikes to cripple a lone investor who dared to break Nigeria’s oil curse is reckless. It’s like a wife sulking while her husband sleeps soundly elsewhere — except here, the “husband” is a refinery, and the “wives” are unions trying to control both their own and others’ beds.
Let’s be clear: monopoly is not broken by threats or protests. It is broken by competition — more investors, more refineries, more players. Dangote opened the door. The smart thing is to encourage others, not chase them away.
If we keep harassing investors, we’ll kill the very jobs and opportunities we claim to fight for. And when a nation begins to devour its own children out of desperation, it isn’t just a tragedy. It’s extinction.
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